Carpe Diem, chapter 6
"Don't look so scared," he said, "I'm not gonna hurt you. But if you hurt Billee, that's a whole different story. So I'm warning you now, if you hurt her in any way, I will kill you."
"Yes sir," I mumbled weakly.
"Good, so we understand each other," he smiled, "I'll be upstairs." He left me alone. I hesitated a few minutes before wandering up to Billee's room.
"Your dad is fucking scary," I grumbled as I closed her door.
"What'd he do?"
"He was threatening me," I yawned, flopping down on her bed. "Mmm, this bed smells like you."
"You'd think it would," she smiled, coming over and lying down beside me, "Even if I haven't slept there in two days." I laughed and kissed her cheek as she traced careful patterns on my chest. "Did I tell you I'm gonna cut my hair?"
"No," I said, lifting my head to look at her. "Don't."
"I have to. For my Halloween costume," she said.
"Wear a wig."
"No."
"How short?" I whined.
"Short. But then I'm gonna grow it out again," she smiled, "Don't worry. It won't be like that for long. And if I don't like it, I'll get extensions."
"Fine," I sighed.
"Did I tell you I had a great time last night?" she continued.
"You did not," I replied, wrapping my arms around her body.
"Mmm, well, I did."
"Good. Because I'd hate for you to have a bad time around me."
Monday, July 10, 2006
***Billee Jo's POV***
Dad and I were meeting this band, Mayday, who'd lost their lead singer. We were sitting at a meeting table, all five of us, and I was meeting the three other band members.
"I'm Ashley, this is Marc, and that's Chad," the guy (yes, a guy named Ashley) said, pointing to himself and the two other guys beside him.
"I'm Billee Jo," I answered.
"So you're...like, named after your dad?" Chad said. I glanced at Dad and nodded. "Wicked!"
"So...how do we decide if we want you?" Marc asked.
"Audition," I shrugged, "Unless you don't wanna listen to me."
"We're getting pretty desperate," Ashley muttered, "So you've got a guitar with you?"
I jerked my thumb behind me to where my own replica of Blue sat beside my acoustic. "And what about songwriting?" Marc said, "We've all tried it. We suck."
I slid the notebook I'd brought with me across the table to them and glanced at Dad while they flipped through it. "And you wrote this all?"
"Yep," I nodded, "It's kinda a hobby. But how can it not be, with my dad who he is?"
"These are amazing," Ashley said, looking up at me.
"You don't get those songs if I don't join the band," I stated, "It's a package deal."
"Let's hear you then, I guess," Chad replied. I grabbed the acoustic and started the chords to Good Riddance. After it I played Give Me Novocain and then sat down again.
"If you'll excuse us for a few minutes," Marc said, and the three men slipped out the door, leaving Dad and me alone.
"Do you think they like me?" I asked.
"Well, they were definitely checking you out when you went to get your guitar," Dad murmured.
"Dad, I mean as a band member."
"I think so. I think they were hoping for a guy, but given their situation, they should be fucking thankful that you came along."
We looked around as the guys came back in. "We'd like you to join," Chad mumbled, "You've got amazing talent and we think it'll be a good choice."
"Thanks," I grinned, standing up and shaking their hands.
"Welcome to Mayday," Ashley said, "But we've gotta take off. It's John's funeral and we've gotta go and get ready."
They left and I grabbed my guitar. "Who's John?"
"Their old guitarist," Dad explained, "Died in a car crash."
Dad drove me home and when we got inside, Mike and Tré were standing in the hall, looking slightly lost. "How'd it go?" Tré asked.
"I got it," I announced, grinning madly, "My life is finally going somewhere."
"Congratulations," Mike said.
"Thanks," I shrugged, "I'll be upstairs."
About an hour later, someone knocked on my door and then opened it slowly. "Congratulations," Tré smiled, closing the door behind him.
"Thanks," I grinned as he lay down beside me on my bed.
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his elbow to look at me. "Does this mean I won't see you as much?" he pouted, walking two fingers up the sleeve of my sweatshirt to my shoulder, where they slid down to the logo on the front of my shirt and started tracing that, much slower.
"We're gonna start recording right away, I think," I answered, "The guys wanna get a record out fast for the Grammys this year."
"And if you make it to the Grammys?" he asked.
"Then I'm going to the Grammys," I shrugged, "And you're coming with me." A smile spread across his face as if that's what he wanted to hear.
And true to our word, we had a record out by the Grammys that year. It was mainly our own songs with one cover; Give Me Novocain. But a rift was made at the Grammys...resulting in catastrophic losses. But first, Halloween, since I know it's what you've all been waiting for.
"Yes sir," I mumbled weakly.
"Good, so we understand each other," he smiled, "I'll be upstairs." He left me alone. I hesitated a few minutes before wandering up to Billee's room.
"Your dad is fucking scary," I grumbled as I closed her door.
"What'd he do?"
"He was threatening me," I yawned, flopping down on her bed. "Mmm, this bed smells like you."
"You'd think it would," she smiled, coming over and lying down beside me, "Even if I haven't slept there in two days." I laughed and kissed her cheek as she traced careful patterns on my chest. "Did I tell you I'm gonna cut my hair?"
"No," I said, lifting my head to look at her. "Don't."
"I have to. For my Halloween costume," she said.
"Wear a wig."
"No."
"How short?" I whined.
"Short. But then I'm gonna grow it out again," she smiled, "Don't worry. It won't be like that for long. And if I don't like it, I'll get extensions."
"Fine," I sighed.
"Did I tell you I had a great time last night?" she continued.
"You did not," I replied, wrapping my arms around her body.
"Mmm, well, I did."
"Good. Because I'd hate for you to have a bad time around me."
Monday, July 10, 2006
***Billee Jo's POV***
Dad and I were meeting this band, Mayday, who'd lost their lead singer. We were sitting at a meeting table, all five of us, and I was meeting the three other band members.
"I'm Ashley, this is Marc, and that's Chad," the guy (yes, a guy named Ashley) said, pointing to himself and the two other guys beside him.
"I'm Billee Jo," I answered.
"So you're...like, named after your dad?" Chad said. I glanced at Dad and nodded. "Wicked!"
"So...how do we decide if we want you?" Marc asked.
"Audition," I shrugged, "Unless you don't wanna listen to me."
"We're getting pretty desperate," Ashley muttered, "So you've got a guitar with you?"
I jerked my thumb behind me to where my own replica of Blue sat beside my acoustic. "And what about songwriting?" Marc said, "We've all tried it. We suck."
I slid the notebook I'd brought with me across the table to them and glanced at Dad while they flipped through it. "And you wrote this all?"
"Yep," I nodded, "It's kinda a hobby. But how can it not be, with my dad who he is?"
"These are amazing," Ashley said, looking up at me.
"You don't get those songs if I don't join the band," I stated, "It's a package deal."
"Let's hear you then, I guess," Chad replied. I grabbed the acoustic and started the chords to Good Riddance. After it I played Give Me Novocain and then sat down again.
"If you'll excuse us for a few minutes," Marc said, and the three men slipped out the door, leaving Dad and me alone.
"Do you think they like me?" I asked.
"Well, they were definitely checking you out when you went to get your guitar," Dad murmured.
"Dad, I mean as a band member."
"I think so. I think they were hoping for a guy, but given their situation, they should be fucking thankful that you came along."
We looked around as the guys came back in. "We'd like you to join," Chad mumbled, "You've got amazing talent and we think it'll be a good choice."
"Thanks," I grinned, standing up and shaking their hands.
"Welcome to Mayday," Ashley said, "But we've gotta take off. It's John's funeral and we've gotta go and get ready."
They left and I grabbed my guitar. "Who's John?"
"Their old guitarist," Dad explained, "Died in a car crash."
Dad drove me home and when we got inside, Mike and Tré were standing in the hall, looking slightly lost. "How'd it go?" Tré asked.
"I got it," I announced, grinning madly, "My life is finally going somewhere."
"Congratulations," Mike said.
"Thanks," I shrugged, "I'll be upstairs."
About an hour later, someone knocked on my door and then opened it slowly. "Congratulations," Tré smiled, closing the door behind him.
"Thanks," I grinned as he lay down beside me on my bed.
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his elbow to look at me. "Does this mean I won't see you as much?" he pouted, walking two fingers up the sleeve of my sweatshirt to my shoulder, where they slid down to the logo on the front of my shirt and started tracing that, much slower.
"We're gonna start recording right away, I think," I answered, "The guys wanna get a record out fast for the Grammys this year."
"And if you make it to the Grammys?" he asked.
"Then I'm going to the Grammys," I shrugged, "And you're coming with me." A smile spread across his face as if that's what he wanted to hear.
And true to our word, we had a record out by the Grammys that year. It was mainly our own songs with one cover; Give Me Novocain. But a rift was made at the Grammys...resulting in catastrophic losses. But first, Halloween, since I know it's what you've all been waiting for.
